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Delta Squad - δ

• Seussi shall be known only as δ I
  
• -Yasha Alchemist shall be known only as δ II
  
• Ol-j-man shall be known only as δ III
  
• Kanth shall be known only as δ IV
  
• Katarina Evarard shall be known only as δ V
  
• soliloquy in aria shall be known only as δ VI
  
• kalindara shall be known only as δ VII
  
• Sleet Tempest Snape shall be known only as δ VIII
  
• pinchmonster shall be known only as δ IX
  
• Ary Keeyara shall be known only as δ X
  
• [X_Bleeding Roses_X] shall be known only as δ XI
  
• Syusaki shall be known only as δ XII
  
  

Please note that this roster does NOT indicate whatsoever that you must RP with these people. While it is encouraged that squads stick together, players are free to wander off and do their own thing... or forge alliances with other squads and other members. Providing that the other squads don't shoot you on site first, that is.

How... extraordinarily odd!
That was the only way she could describe her current situation, as she, quite groggily, made her way around her 'base' tent. Her head swiveled from side to side, eyes glancing at the others who were in the tent with her, grabbing their first aide kits and backpacks, and checking the contents therein.
She was begginning to feel faintly nauseated. And her head! It throbbed painfully with every movement she made, like she was suffering through the worst hangover ever! But there had been no binge drinking with friends the night before..that much was clear.She desperately hoped that this was just a reaction to whatever it was she had been drugged with, if that was indeed what had happened to her. She lifted glove clad hand up to her head, bowing it for a moment, only to feel the helmet and mask that was over her face, giving her the same uniform look as everyone else she had seen in the tent thus far. She could only assume hers was the same green as theirs were.
As she began walking (a little clumsily) over towards the table with the backpacks, she heard a faint, repetive beeping sound. It was a vagualy familiar noise, and seemed to have an interval of about a minute between sounding off again. She looked down, finding an object that she recognised attached to her belt. A cell phone? Did everyone else have one? Sure enough, as she took another quick glance around, there were others with the same device, also attached to their belts. Confused about her situation more then ever, she grabbed at the phone and flipped it open. A new message? She hit the appropriate button, then felt the blood drain from her face as she read what it said.
Death? DEATH? She didn't want to die! She faintly recalled what somebody had said earlier, when she had first woken up in the classroom type area. She had signed up for this? Who in their right mind would sign up for this madness!
But maybe that was just it. Maybe she wasn't in her right mind at all! She could be stuck here with a bunch of crazy people. A bunch of crazy people who want to kill me... The thought just unwantingly flashed through her head. Quickly, she grabbed a backpack, and opening it, found a pair of nun-chucks inside. Nun-chucks! How useless was that! She didn't think she even knew how to use them, and would likely clobber herself before managing to hit anybody else. It didn't matter. She would use her fists to fight, if she had to.
Shoving the nun-chucks back in her bag, she strode over quickly to the table with the first aide kits, snatching one up and shoving it into the bag as well. With a moments thought, she did a little rearranging so that the nun-chucks were on top of the first aide kit, for easier emergency access. It wouldn't do if she were being attacked, and couldn't find the damn things, useless or not! Maybe she could find time to practice with them later....if she wasn't dead first.

δ II ;; Delta two, sat up to yawn which was stifled by some type of mask. He didn’t freak out or anything it seemed normal…and well he didn’t much care.

“What a place to nap,” the gas masked gent stood up, but not for very long. A dull ache of a headache took over and compelled him to sit down once again. Beep, Beep, Beeeep. ~ Yet another thing to bother him. δ II reached around for…well whatever it was. Finally he found a cellular device at his hip, he leaned over the desk and flipped up the screen of his phone to see a new message. He read over it briefly.
…
…
Yup people gonna die, probably a lot… time to head out.

Delta two, headed out to the supply area and checked out the bags. He got bandages, take that monster gauze of death comming at you....though as he jokes with this he might...be able to make it out of here alive.

His next move was over to the corner before roll out time, there was another squad member there to have ideal, unimportant chit chat with. “Hey.”

She sat up with a jolt, eyes opening, breathing heavily. Without thinking, her hand moved wipe the sheen of sweat from her forehead, but found the way blocked by the heavy gas mask on her face and the light armor that everyone seemed to be wearing. Everyone... looking around, she saw the walls of a bright green tent, and inside eleven other figures wearing the same armor and boots and masks milled about. Some had yet to wake.

Am I going to die?

Her heartbeat had ceased racing, and her breathing was slowing down, but now a wave of nausea rose in her throat and she suppressed the urge to gag, to empty the contents of her stomach into the small space allowed between her body and the mask and armor. She felt suffocated, the walls of the suit encasing her, closing in and sucking away the air around her; her ears rung with shock, or fear, or maybe simply the reverberation of sound within an enclosed space.

A beeping startled her, pulling her away from her thoughts. Her fingers fumbled towards the source of the sound, landed on a grey cell phone strapped to the belt of the suit.

A single message was waiting.

She squeezed her eyes and told herself to focus as she scanned the contents of the message. Only thirteen, it said; enjoy your trip, it said; she laughed out loud, the sound muffled by her mask, a choked shriek. I'm going to die. The text message's tone brought flashbacks of a ringing voice, a classroom filled with students doomed to die, her own dimming consciousness and darkening vision, a number-- delta six.

She was sitting up by now, her head lowered, knees drawn up protectively. She sat still for a long time. Nothing will change if I stay here. More and more of the suited figures were getting up now, walking to one of the three tables scattered around the tent and picking up bulky packages, their shapes distorted through the lens of her mask. Slowly, she rose and walked to the first table, trudging behind another blurry figure. Imitating itsmotions, she picked up what seemed like a first aid kit, then moved on to the second table. The packs were labeled with numbers; she remembered her own, and lifted the heavy pack labeled δ VI. On the third table there was only what seemed like a map, and she ignored it. When they were all about to die, all but 13, did it matter where?

As she walked away from the tables and back to the space where she had woken up, another figure (person?) at the other end of the tent shouted a cheerful greeting to the crowd, bowing with a flourish. She glanced sidelong at him and wondered why, or how he remained so optimistic.

She was surprised someone had gone to the trouble to organize and label these packs-- was there something different in each of them? She opened her own and found a small dagger. She hefted it in her palm; were they expected to kill with this? Could she imagine herself plunging this knife into someone else's flesh, if the time came? Or maybe it was a mercy dagger, but she looked around and noticed that others had different weapons, some a club, some nunchucks, and many others. Maybe it was fitting that she had received a dagger; the thought flitted through her mind, but she forced herself to ignore it. I'm not that desperate, she told herself, I could be one of the thirteen. And even if she wasn't, she was sure there would be plenty of other ways to die.

Some were turning to others and beginning to make small talk now; the sound of quiet murmurs echoed inside the tent. She sat quietly, tracing the contour of the flimsy dagger with a gloved finger, and waited for something, anything to happen.

He woke up silently, his eyes groggily cracking open. At first, he found nothing unusual about the fact that his vision was tinted a light green, but as soon as he opened his mouth to breathe, he was startled to find the air warm and suffocating. Still disoriented, he reluctantly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Where am I? . . .Who am I? He scratched his head, only to realize that he also donned gear that completely covered his body. Although the material was light, it uncomfortably clung to his body.

He looked around and noticed people that were similarly dressed. At first he wondered how he would identify each person—they all looked the same—but the flash of white Roman numerals emblazoned on the side of their helmets silenced his curiosity. His hand reached up to brush the area of his helmet where he guessed the number was. What number was he? He spent a long time staring at everyone else, catching fleeting glimpses of their numbers until he was left with the number twelve. Was he Twelve, or were there more? He shrugged and finally got to his feet. For now, he would be Twelve.

People gravitated towards a set of tables and Twelve decided he would do the same. He started at the table filled with cases that appeared to be first aid kits. Furtively, Twelve glanced at everyone else as they gathered their own supplies. He observed them as they claimed kits, bags, and maps. They weren’t going to like, explode on contact or something, right? Though, the idea amused him. Explosions were pretty.

Once he concluded that the supplies were harmless he took his own kit and strolled down the line until he had all three items. Twelve clumsily held them in his arms. He frowned and kneeled down. Carefully, Twelve placed the map on top of the kit and the bag on top of both the map and kit. As he bent down to pick up his neatly arranged pile of supplies, a small device plopped to the ground. He picked it up and stared at it. Realizing that it was a cellphone, he flipped it open and immediately flipped through the messages. There were only two, depressing and mind-boggling.

He remained still, his attention focused on the glowing message. Only thirteen will escape the island. Everyone else will die. Twelve adjusted his position so that his legs were sprawled out. Sighing, he leaned forward into a stretch. He did not fear death itself, but the method of his demise. Fire. Bullets. Drowning. What would it be?

But the thing he feared most was dying alone and unknown, as just another nameless corpse. Had it not been for D-3, Twelve would have begun sulking, then and there.

“You have a point there.” He beamed. Not that anyone saw, since his mask shrouded his mouth. “How about we travel in small groups? Moving as one giant mass is probably bad.”

Delta One couldn't help but feel slightly negative about this whole situation. She had been standing, with her head lowered, as she pondered the circumstances (or at least, the ones she could still remember) that had led her to wake up here, feeling confused, disoriented, and above all, afraid. Her head snapped up to attention, however, when she heard Delta Three speak out loud, with sickening optimism, that made her lip curl back behind her mask.
Yep, crazy people...that's who she was stuck here with. She shook her head a little, clearing the last remenants of the headache (finally) and the cobwebs that were still clinging to patches of her brain, making her yet feel foggy. She heard another person mention splitting up into smaller groups, and felt that it could be a bad idea to do...
"Are you sure that's wise?" she found herself speaking out loud, head turning towards the one that spoke of splitting up. "There must be others out there, and if only 13 are going to survive, they'll all be gunning for anybody not in a group. If we stick together, we'll have a larger fighting force in the event of an attack" Her voice came out flat, emotionless. She couldn't show any weakness.